Skiing From Heaven to Hell

There’s that someplace…

A summit where silence reigns,

where the sky kisses the earth.

where a solitary figure stands against the vast white,

listening to the wind howling its secrets

of ancient snows,

all while feeling the mountain’s ancient pulse.

A place where…

Down below is a distant memory,

For here only the present exists.

The sun, a distant guardian, watches over,

where every breath creates a cloud in the thin air,
eyes remain focused on the descent,
a journey through the untouched,
where only the brave dare carve their path.

A starting point…

Where the first push enters gravity’s gentle pull,
scattering snowflakes like stars in the night,
making every turn a dance with the mountain,

a meditation of grace.

Thus continues…

A silent conversation with the slopes,

as he glides like a fleeting shadow
through the realm of ice and rock,
heart now pounding with the rhythm of the descent,
a symphony of speed and silence.

An epiphanic experience…

In the decent

he finds his center,

a flow state where time ceases

as the world blurs,

a canvas of white and blue
as time stretches into

a moment eternal.

In the embrace of Everest,
he finds his freedom, his flight,

even as he loses control

and slides…

Slides.

Slides.

His painful thought—

“There will be another day.”